


No One

by ConstellationConfusion



Series: Losing Myself [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Isolation, Logan Needs A Hug, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Neglected Health, Repression, Self-Hatred, Spiralling, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 21:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19894366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstellationConfusion/pseuds/ConstellationConfusion
Summary: Logan knew that he wasn't needed, nor was he wanted. He also knew that the others thought so too.He was right.





	No One

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short one-shot that's pretty much just entirely Logan angst.  
> There are no ships in this, but if you want it, you could read it as a LAMP fic. 
> 
> Fair warning; I wrote this in half an hour and it is not edited, so please let me know if there is anything I can fix and/or improve.  
> Enjoy!

It had been several days since Logan had seen the other Sides, let alone Thomas. He stayed in his room, mindlessly completing useless tasks and convincing himself that he was being productive.

He wasn’t.

The first few days, the others had come regularly to check in on him. Patton brought him food, Virgil sat with him and read, and Roman chatted and kept him updated on Thomas’ life. Logan didn’t mind. They didn’t need to know why he wasn’t leaving his room.

Then, after a few days, something in him shattered. He started snapping at Virgil and Patton, and had a no holds barred argument with Roman, leaving both Sides hurt and snarling.

No one bothered him after that.

It was fine with him. Most of his hours were spent at his laptop, at his bare desk, writing something or other, or he would be re-arranging every single shelf and drawer in his already spotless room. His bed lay unused, a growing collection of coffee mugs stacked on the floor.

The fifth day of isolation found Logan frantically writing, face impassive.

_Reasons Why This Is Fine;_

  * ~~_I prefer working in solitude_~~
  * ~~_I enjoy being away from the others_~~
  * _I can still guide Thomas from here_
  * _The Sides can function without me_
  * _I am getting necessary work accomplished_
  * _I am not bothering anyone_
  * _They do not have to put up with me_
  * _I am out of the way_
  * _They won’t get mad at me_
  * _I won’t be a nuisance_
  * _I don’t have to pretend when no one is here_
  * _They don’t need me_
  * _It doesn’t matter if I’m there or not_
  * _No one cares if I’m gone_
  * _I’m useless_



A knock on his door interrupted him. He looked at the door, hands still resting on the keyboard.

“Lo? Buddy? We haven’t seen you in a while… Can I come in?” Patton called from the other side of the door. Logan didn’t respond, poising his hands on the top of his computer screen, ready to slam it shut should Patton attempt to enter his room.

He heard a small sigh, and then silence. A candle of guilt flickered within him, but he immediately quenched it. Looking back at his computer screen, Logan read back what he had wrote.

This time, he did slam the laptop shut. He could smell Patton making dinner, hear Roman loudly quoting Disney, see Virgil’s boots as they passed by his door. He wasn’t needed. He didn’t need them, either. He had everything he needed in his own four walls. Being a figment of Thomas’ imagination helped, seeing as he didn’t really need to survive. All he had to do was exist. He didn’t need to die, and he didn’t need to live.

So Logan existed. The other Sides lived, breathed, and laughed; Logan merely existed. It didn’t upset him, nor did it bring him joy. All that it did was chisel further into the gaping void that expanded every time he saw Thomas and was reminded that he could not change into someone he wasn’t. He was a fixed persona, carved into the shape of what Thomas needed, not what Logan wanted.

He knew he wasn’t good at anything. Patton was good at taking care of people, taking care of Thomas. Roman was good at acting, singing, and creating ideas for Thomas. Virgil was good at observing what was around him and helping Thomas be safe.

What did Logan do? Logan spouted facts, obsessed over theories and graphs that didn’t belong to him. Logan took the work of other people and shuffled it. Logan gave Thomas information that he could just as easily find in books or online. Logan was the Internet, with the addition of a multitude of restrictions and weaknesses. Logan was a waste of space. Logan was futile. Logan was no one.

There was nobody else besides the four of them in their side of the Mindscape, therefore they had no choice but to put up with him. They had to, to keep Thomas healthy. But that didn’t mean that they had to like him.

They made it obvious enough that he didn’t fit in. The endless taunts from Roman, scorn and annoyance from Virgil, but what hurt the most was the apathy from Patton. The loving and warm side made no effort to include him nor deny him from any social aspect of the Sides’ relationship. He barely talked to him, only making small talk and shying away from personal conversations. Perhaps he thought that Logan wouldn’t catch on. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered. He didn’t matter.

So there he sat, perfect posture, staring at the closed laptop on his desk, tears streaking down his expressionless face, glasses slipping down his nose, tie getting stained. These tears weren’t his. He was sure of it. Nothing belonged to him. Not his room, not his personality, not his existence. He belonged to the part of Thomas’ brain that needed him in order to remain functional. That was all.

Logan remained at his desk, unmoving. A living statue. No, you couldn’t call him living. Just a statue, then. He sat there, eyes blank, soul numb, deaf and blind to the world around him. Distantly, he wondered when someone would come rescue him. When someone would give him a hug and tell him that he was wanted, needed, loved. When someone would look into his eyes and bring back his colour with their own warmth. When someone would save him from himself. He waited. Logan waited for the people he once thought loved him to check on him, to just ask him if he was okay, or to even visit him, for any reason at all.

No one did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please leave a kudos if you liked it, and comments are always appreciated ^^


End file.
